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by sundaystyle



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Clint Needs a Hug, Deaf Character, Deaf Clint, Deaf Clint Barton, Depression, F/M, Gen, Pain, Sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-11 12:33:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2068341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundaystyle/pseuds/sundaystyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story of Clint Barton, inwardly hating himself and finding out his insecurities after being left to only listen to his own thoughts and nothing else. This is a story of Natasha Romanov who learns to lower her walls of ice. This is just a story of two broken people giving up on pretending to be tough and realizing their need for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clint Barton is a stubborn man

"..."

There was something familiar in the way his feet was hanging above the ground, painting the shadow into a darker grey than the floor. He watched it move simultaneously with his feet, back and forward. He could sense that there was something else going on around him, a movement at the corner of his eyes that he promptly ignored and continued to focus on the slight move of the shadow, which he was in control of.

Clint didn’t need words to know more about his situation. He’s been through it before and he could remember the details vividly. A smaller shadow beneath him in a similar room, back when he watched his father talk animatedly to the doctor, angry, no doubt. He didn’t know at the time but could put two and two together to understand that the reason why the sounds were taken away from him was that particularly hard blow. Maybe plural. He was used to the punishment by then, already learned not to ask why. He could draw out reasons each time his father was angry. He tried to be a better son but he kept doing worse.

And now it was his fault that he couldn’t hear. Now his family had to be extra careful with him, go through lengths to learn sign language or make extra effort to communicate with him. Clint felt guilty and embarrassed that he was less than a person, now. Causing trouble for everyone since his birth. 

Cut to the present time.

You’d think that the man who is supposed to be an adult would have an easier time adjusting to the current situation. But then again, maybe not. Clint knew that this was his fault, regardless of how it took place, and eventually his punishment. If he pretended that there wasn’t any sound, not being able to hear didn’t hurt as much. He purposely avoided Barney’s attempts to get his attention and walked away, shut everyone away and stared at a wall, once they came back to his apartment.

The phone vibrated in his pocket and he took it out to look at the caller ID. Nat…

It kept ringing, as stubborn as she is, and he could almost sense the tapping of feet on the other side, the curiosity of the woman on the other side of the line, wondering why he wasn’t taking the call. He stared at the soundless machine in his hand, fingers almost going numb at the level of vibration it was set (by Barney, he assumed).  
When the vibrations died, he felt another, a short one and a short message at the top of the screen. “Can’t talk?”

He wanted to throw away the phone in anger, or maybe laugh out loud in misery. Clint couldn’t shake off the feeling that came crashing down on him, feeling like the kid in front of his father again, small and helpless. And guilty.

“Can’t hear.” He typed back, and hesitated before sending it. 

He didn’t bother to wait for a response as he shut the phone off and throw it away, dropping himself on his bed instead, knowing that he was compromised, sleeping through any possible threat, any warning sounds and even an alien attack.

He stared at his hands and made them into fists, glaring as he tried to remember words he once was taught, then shove the memories deep down beneath the pile of things he kept to remind himself why he was not a worthy human being. 

F  
U  
C  
K

He gave a short, humourless bitter laugh as he finger spelled them to himself. Following it with ‘look’ and ‘bad’.

He just had to work extra hard and prove to everyone else that he was still worthy. Maybe he’s not a super soldier, a god or a genius, or even a hearing person now but he can still shot an arrow through an eye socket.

He didn’t need any help.  
He didn’t need them.  
He is fine by himself.

It’s fine.


	2. No one is ever trained for this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha has a lot of things she wants to say to him but none of them are what he wants to hear.  
> And she's not sure if she's ready to confront or even comfort him.  
> So she waits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This won't quite follow the storyline of the Hawkeye comics, mostly because I'm imagining it in MCU. But I hope you'll enjoy it all the same :)

It's been a few days. Maybe a month. Clint refused to check the date as he passed his everyday ignoring everything going on around him. He found out playing darts was sort of fun, and guessed that he might take that on as a career now that he was sure SHIELD wouldn't be up to his involvement in most cases. Maybe in no case at all, but he didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to think about the consequences, the look on Natasha, or Maria or the other guys. If he didn't think about it, it was almost like everything was fine. 

Except the low hum in his ears and the nightmares. 

He realized he had to give up on his imaginary security from the rest of the world when he realized he was out of coffee. And toilet paper. And food, actually. Priority in that order. It took him another few minutes to finally get up and put on a pair of clean pants and a t-shirt, reminding himself it's just a short trip to the market. He didn't have to talk to anyone, and he could just hand out his credit card to pay- not like he needed to hear how much his purchases cost. It'll be fine, he repeated to himself, taking his keys and wallet and unlocking the door to the outside world.

He could only take one step before he froze in his tracks. 

There, standing under the afternoon sun, was a familiar face staring back at him. Her bright red hair was pulled back into a ponytail - it was longer now, he realized, and she was wearing jeans with a black t-shirt, no doubt going for something that wouldn't attract much attention but looked gorgeous all the same. Natasha. 

It made no sense to him, and frankly it made no sense to her either. A soft look of surprise passed her eyes briefly, which Clint was able to catch only because he could tell the signs of all her expressions- however tiny they were. She didn't expect to see him, he realized. But she was standing outside of his house. Putting two and two together is never easy when you're with the Black Widow but he thought he knew her well enough to be able to see her reasons for her actions. Not this time. And Natasha could tell that he was confused as well, but unlike her he wasn't even trying to hide his expressions. Confusion, annoyance and something darker as he started to walk away, apparently deciding to blatantly ignore her presense.

She briefly considered letting him go. Confronting someone was never her forte anyway and wasn't that the reason she came here everyday without building up the courage to kick down his door? Honestly, she knew, she was about to go back herself as well, deciding that they could face the situation another day, when he is ready- when she is ready.

But something in her she couldn't even name urged her to walk after him, keep up with his steps fast enough to follow the trail behind him. Natasha glared daggers into his back when one of the best agents she knew, almost a rival to her skills, couldn't tell that she was right behind him. It was a big enough sign to his lost ability. Instead of reaching to tap his back, she shifted to walk beside him, giving him an opportunity to see and acknowledge her, which he finally did- to her relief. 

He stopped and stared at her, with the coldest look in his eyes that she almost couldn't return. But then she remembered back all the times she tried to reach him and the bubbling anger surfaced as well. "Your phone is closed." She knew the statement would say more than that, that she was worried, she couldn't reach him, why she's here... He stared at her lips and blinked twice before waving her away and turning back to walk again.

Natasha stared behind him for a few seconds before deciding to give him the privacy he asked for. 

If he didn't want to talk yet, she wasn't going to force him.


	3. Am I selfish?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope, is a very scary word for an assassin.  
> Tony is experimenting a new technology that neither of them can vocally bring themselves up to accept the possibility which Clint might at least be able to keep his job.

It's been a month and 13 days since Natasha last saw Clint. Not that she was counting the days, but nevertheless she couldn't help to realize the exact amount of time that passed the second she saw her phone lit up, one name on top.

From: C.Barton  
Message:  
I'm sorry Nat.

She wanted to be angry, she wanted to get mad at him for pushing her away. She wanted to say that he took too long, and people, especially Natasha, aren't usually that patient. And really, she's never been patient. But none of those words felt right to say. What Natasha was feeling, was not anger, but relief? Relief, was part of it, sure.

After their last encounter Natasha didn't try to contact him again, guessing that he'd come to her when the time is right and if he didn't - that's his loss, isn't it? She wouldn't admit to it, but there was a certain pattern that her fingers recognized, dancing on the keyboard of a laptop untrackable. A dance she's practiced every morning, hacking into the files and following the report on Agent Barton's healing process.

The report said permanent deafness, 80%. Amongst other things that she didn't understand-she's been a lot of things but never a doctor. She considered asking Bruce, or Tony, but that thought left her neurons as soon as it was suggested by a weak part of her DNA- she believed it to be lost in natural selection by now. Although she knew Tony already knew of it, as the hearing aids S.H.I.E.L.D apparently began to issue were Stark Technology. They've been working on a new science-y stuff, she picked up from a mess of medical terms listed heavily in the folder. She could understand that it worked on vibrations, sound waves and would bring back at least some of his hearing back up. Not perfect, but it would apparently help him communicate easier. And there were paragraphs and paragraphs about an operation Tony proposed, to fix his balance probably. Which she was currently looking into, as she still didn't understand what it would do, if it was dangerous and if Clint was okay with it.

So when she saw her phone light up, she had an idea of why he might contact her now. Either he was informed about all these possibilities and he was seriously considering it, and this was his way of making amends. Or, well, she didn't want to consider another option.

_Where r u?_

_**HQ** _

__You're gonna do it?_ _

If she hesitated for a moment, it wasn't because she didn't know he wouldn't figure out she found out. Because he probably even expected it of her, knowing each other for so long. But it was a consideration that she's never shown before. Whether or not he knew she did, she wasn't sure if he wanted her to know. The false hope, the more people cling to it, the bigger disappointment it is to everyone.

If Clint never gained his hearing back, she would lose her partner.

She would lose a friend.

__**Yes.** _ _

Natasha didn't wait another second as she picked up her keys and left.

She wanted to be angry, she wanted to get mad at him for pushing her away. She wanted to say that he took too long, and people, especially Natasha, aren't usually that patient. And really, she's never been patient. But as she got in her car and drove towards SHIELD HeadQuarters, she didn't feel angry.

She felt incredibly hopeful and desperate that it scared her to death.


End file.
